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just might possess the power to bring grandma’s memory back to life.
    From that point on, Tiffany understood that people and animals shared a connection. Even when Tiffany’s grandma no longer recognized anything, or anyone, Duke rested at her feet, content to guard her, his love unconditional as he radiated comfort to the bewildered elder.
    That winter, just before Christmas, Nana Jayne passed away.
    Through the mourning that followed, through the pain that swelled through Tiffany’s spirit, Duke tracked her like a compatriot until she finally crumpled onto the bed in her small bedroom, devastated and sobbing while she cranked up the music on her stereo in order to drown out her tears.
    Duke was hers now, and she clung to him like a compass pointing to true north in the midst of a storm-cast sea.
    Dreams dissipated and Tiffany jerked awake, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her fingertips came away moistened by tears, and her throat stung. While she considered the circumstances of her life, the goals she had embraced since middle school, a realization came to life. Therapy animals, like human counselors, needed to possess empathy as part of their DNA. Some would possess the skill, some wouldn’t. Response testing would need to be developed and executed in order to ensure maximum results.
    Tiffany jotted notes and laid out some basic parameters of how to execute her idea about clinical analysis and the personality testing of potential therapy animals. Thoughts took form in rapid fire clicks of the keyboard. She’d flesh out and polish the words tomorrow; for now, though, she had solid bones for her paper. She logged off her computer and shut off the lights, ambling to bed. Nana’s story, paired with Duke’s empathy, would find its way into her paper—one she felt provided a solid base for her goals and intentions as a future therapist.
    Tiffany knew this was her calling. If she intended to fulfill her part of God’s plan she would need to channel her energy to the road ahead rather than a sudden and utterly unexpected fascination toward CEO Charming.

4
    At home that night, Mitch settled into his favorite spot—a wing-back leather recliner positioned before a fireplace he had lit promptly upon arrival. At just after nine thirty, all he had done so far was peruse the day’s mail, ditch his suit coat and kick off his shoes. He settled in the living room of his condo. While snaps, pops and dancing flames filled the room with life, he planned to perform a final scan of work e-mail via his smart phone. After that, he’d read the New York Times—the print copy he had brought in from the delivery box. The way he saw it, some pleasures weren’t meant to be replaced by electro-technology. He was almost ready to tumble into bed and call it a day. The combination of bitter cold, wind and snow had sucked the energy out of him. Then, there was the seemingly endless dark. He was used to the mountains. He was used to the rumbling sea and sunlight. Lots and lots of sunlight. This season of waking in the dark, getting home in the dark, with precious little light in between wasn’t a lifestyle he intended to embrace over the long haul.
    It’s going to be so pretty in the morning, before the city comes alive. The storm will have passed and I imagine the sky will be a clear, dark blue. For that brief, undisturbed bit of time, the snow will still be white, and the trees and buildings will sparkle.
    Tiffany’s observations from dinner returned to him wrapped in a sweetness that was an intrinsic component of her personality. He pictured her clearly, all dreamy and content. She was happy, and fulfilled. She was quiet, but strong. Mitch rubbed his chin, and his focus slowed against a haze of…of what exactly? He liked her, sure. There was much to admire about her bright personality, her charming disposition. She was low-key, yet exhibited an intense commitment to her dreams and her job—this in spite of Eric’s